


from your skin to mine

by pistolgrip



Series: gbf 76 week 2019 [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: Siete's injuries leave him with no choice but to stay at the Grandcypher for the night, but with the ship reaching full capacity, there's only one room he can stay in.(for day 2 of siesix week, injuries.)





	from your skin to mine

Siete stumbles upon the Grandcypher, half asleep and all exhausted. His bleeding is manageable, but the bruises ache with every clumsy step he takes.

When he sees the tallest of the ship's decks peeking over the treeline, he takes the cape off to fold over his arm and runs a hand through his hair. The Grandcypher could be anywhere, and for it to be here for him while he's in the sad state he is now has to be divine intervention.

None of his injuries are fatal, but he'll need a day or two to rest up. It's a gamble to attempt resting here, where everyone is a well-meaning yet nosy friend—but with few options left, he practices twisting his grimaces into a smile.

* * *

For his arrival, Gran had prepared a greeting for half a second before his face twisted into acute horror, and then a weary smile had replaced it and remained there for the rest of their conversation.

"Sorry," he says, rubbing his face. He doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary about Siete, but he does seem too overworked to pay attention. "I didn’t expect a guest so late at night. It’s kind of a mess around here, it’s... gotten a bit crowded lately."

"I can see," Siete says, as Gran weaves through the ship and its abnormal amount of inhabitants like second nature. "Luckily for you, I won't be here too long! But when did you get so many crew members?"

"A lot of them are only with the Grandcypher every once in a while, so there’s a set of temporary rooms," he explains as they wind down a staircase. Siete tries to keep pace, but the movement is more demanding than walking on flat ground, and he relieves the pain by making silent-scream faces behind Gran. "Our permanent members have actual rooms, but we do look more like a hotel..."

Gran knocks on a door—the fifth one he’s tried tonight—while looking down at a sheet of paper with an absurd amount of names on it. "This room _must_ be empty... Siete, you can stay in this one."

Even before he finishes that sentence, the door creaks open, revealing a Harvin with a trombone so large it makes her look even smaller. Gran grins sheepishly, but exhaustion is starting to show around his eyes. "Mimlemel, thought you were out."

She makes a small noise through the instrument and shakes her head. "My room isn’t free yet."

"Ah. Sorry for having disturbed you, then." At the realization that the crew members are also aware of the cramped state of the ship, Gran laughs nervously and turns away. He bites his lip and looks down at the list, flipping through the pages with more desperation. "New Year's and Golden Week brings so many people back, and then they don’t leave," he mutters under his breath. "I hate to say this, but you might have to share a room. I'll find someone you know."

"The floor's an option," Siete lies through his teeth. His bruises make the floor very much _not_ an option. "As long as I’m not sleeping on the decks."

"As tempting as it is, I won't do that to you." He pauses for a moment, and judging by how he sighs and looks up towards the sky as a quiet prayer, Siete can guess who he'd be sharing a room with. There aren't many other Eternals that frequent the Grandcypher. "Let’s get going, then." Gran waves a hand and leads them even further down the ship.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Siete follows. "I promise I’ll play nice with anyone you put me with, scout’s honour."

"I hope for his sake, you do," Gran says.

"Hey, I didn’t think I was that bad to be around."

This far down, the ship looks more like a storage area than proper lodging, but the doors here are labelled with names. The rooms are far apart from each other, and Gran leads him to the one at the one at the very end of the hallway.

Knocking on it, Gran calls out. "Six?"

The door cracks open, and Siete sees a familiar mask with a body clad in a white cloak. He salutes with two fingers despite his body protesting with the motion, unable to hold back his smile from seeing him. "Yo."

He assumes it’s more of Gran’s presence than his that Six doesn't slam the door in his face, but his grip on the doorknob tightens.

"Sorry, Six," Gran says, not paying mind to Six's restraint or moving past it. "Turns out all our rooms are filled up, and Siete’s got nowhere to sleep, and since you two are friends and all, I thought it might be okay to ask you."

There’s a moment of stony silence as Six considers his pleading tone. Then, Six creaks the door open, wide enough for Siete to step in, but not wide enough for him to do it without having to squeeze his body through. The doorknob scrapes one of his bruises, and he plays it off by being overdramatic, making a fuss about cramming himself through the sliver of space.

Choosing to ignore it, Gran claps his hands. "Six, thanks, you’re a real lifesaver. Both of you, dinner’s long over—man, Siete what are you doing out this late?—but make sure you come up for whatever’s left if you're hungering."

Six mutters in the affirmative and waits until Gran turns around to close the door. Siete puts his bag on the ground, under the small window of the small quarters. There’s barely room for the two of them to stand without one of them being forced to sit on the bed, which is what Six has resorted to doing, and whatever floor space he has access to is restrained by a table shoved against the wall. With this size, this room can't have been intended to be for anyone to spend their time in. It's smaller than any other on the ship that he's seen, undoubtedly by Six’s request.

Siete hides the pain by sighing dramatically again, contorting his face into an odd expression that makes Six scoff behind the mask. "I’ve never seen you so nice to me. Though I guess you have to look nice to me in front of your _boyfriend,_ do you?" Siete chirps. He sits on the edge of the bed, chin in both hands, batting his eyelashes at Six.

Six grits his teeth, trying not to rise to Siete's goading. It's cute to tease him like this, because at least to him, it's obvious that Six has an amount of affection towards the Captain of the Grandcypher, a suspicion that seems confirmed after the teasing. It makes him want to peel away at Six's guards more and see what he's like underneath it all.

"He is nothing of the sort." Six frowns. His ears twitching. His voice is strangled. Siete grins further. "For the sake of a peaceful night, I will forgive your erroneous statement. Do not test that."

"Scary," Siete says, but he lays off. As fun as it is to tease Six, he needs to shower and check his bruises before they reach the point where he can't hide them. "But I know it's late, I can leave you to stew in your own feelings. Where can I wash up down here?"

"Down the hallway," Six says after a heavy sigh.

"Uh... do you have an extra towel?"

"Shouldn't you be prepared for situations like this?" Six asks, He tries to stand up, but there's more of the bed than there is the empty space of the room, so he tumbles backwards gracefully. (Siete notices.) "Are you not returning from a mission?"

"I am, but things got complicated." There's nothing _that_ complicated about the amount of bruising he has, but he doesn't need to know that. "And I needed a place to crash that wasn't the forest floor."

"You should have stayed there. Feet up," Six says, motioning at Siete's legs. No sooner does Siete lift them does Six pull out the drawers underneath the bed and takes out a clean towel, tossing it at Siete's face.

Taking the hint, he removes the towel from his face and tosses it on the bed behind him. There's no good place to keep his armour, so he keeps his space as Six turns to face the wall, putting his gear as tightly packed in the corner as he can.

Six pay him no mind when he exits and begins the long trek down to the bathroom. Moving any faster would aggravate his bruises, and he feels like he's run a marathon by the time he gets there. With only a handful of rooms down here, the bathroom is kept neatly, more reminiscent of a private space than a communal one.

Inside, he sighs and starts the arduous process of undressing. Now that he's had the chance to sit down, being forced to move again is excruciating. He bumps bruises with every movement he makes; he tries to take off his shirt in a way that's mindful of his pain and only ends up knocking toiletries off the counter. They crash everywhere, and he nudges another bottle off trying to pick everything up and put it back in order.

Doing that puts him right in view of the mirror, and for the first time he sees the extent of the bruising. Some are already a mottled yellow, the kind that causes a shockwave of pain whenever he even so much as looks at them, and others are stretched across his muscles, an ugly purple-blue strain from overexertion.

He straightens up, craning his neck to see what's on his back.

As he's inspecting his injuries, the door flies open, and the doorknob knocks straight into a bruise on his waist. He doubles over in pain and groans, so overcome by the sensation that he doesn't think to restrain it.

He hears Six's voice from the entrance through his pain. It couldn't have been anyone but Six. Anyone else would have footsteps too loud to ignore. "Are you—Siete?"

Even through the pain, he can't _not_ make a joke about it. "How many other Sietes do you know?"

Six ignores it. "You were making a racket. I was curious as to whether you'd never used a bathroom before in your life."

Six's voice trails off, and even with the mask on, Siete can tell that his eyes are scanning the mess of bruises across his torso and exposed limbs. When the pain has subsided once again to a dull static, Siete stands up shakily and grins. "Checking out the goods?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows, but he can see the grimace out of the corner of his eye in the reflection of the mirror.

"What the hell did you get yourself into?" Six's hand comes up instinctively, as if to touch the closest bruise, and then he stops himself, clenching his fist instead. "I knew you were a bumbling oaf of a man, but this is unprecedented."

"Hey, I'm graceful. Didn't you hear me two seconds ago?"

"Sit down," Six says sternly. Siete's just tired enough to comply, sitting on the edge of the tub. Losing the earlier apprehension from earlier, Six reaches out with a gloved hand and traces his bruises with his fingertips, lightly enough that it doesn't hurt but enough that he can feel the intent.

He feels exposed under eyes that he can't see. Siete's long since stopped getting startled by seeing Six's mask where he doesn't expect it; Six has great comedic timing, whether he knows it or not, and the mask is entirely to be credited. But as Six is assessing the damage, starting to scold him when he gets to a particularly bad bruise, Siete thinks that the mask does exactly what it's intended to do. He watches it carefully, even though he knows that he'll never be able to steal a glance at Six's face if he doesn't want to be seen.

If Six notices Siete staring at his face through his mask, he doesn't comment. After an inspection more thorough than Siete would expect of him, Six finally stands up and crosses his arms.

"Well, doc?" Siete says, smiling. It feels less like a chore this time.

"You look horrific. Take a shower." And with that, Six turns on his heel and walks out of the bathroom.

"At least close the door! What if someone sees my nipples?"

"Consider it a blessing. Anyone would be so disturbed to see you half-naked that they'd run away, and you could continue to pretend you are unharmed."

"At least be a gentleman and give me your coat so I don't feel so exposed."

Six sighs. "Will you be reasonable if I do?"

The response takes him aback, and he takes a second to answer. Either Six gained a sense of humour while he was on the Grandcypher, or he's taking a page out of Gran's book and playing along to try and appease him. "Sure."

With resignation, Six takes off the white, gold, and red cape of the Eternals and tosses it over Siete, like he did with the towel. By the time Siete gets it off his head, Six is gone, and he laughs.

Six didn't even close the door behind him.

The dull ache persists throughout his entire body when he stands to undress, closing the door and stepping into the shower, but the hot water runs over his tired body and lulls him further into a numb rest.

* * *

How long he's spent in the shower, he doesn't know, but the noise from the upper decks has quieted enough that only sounds of the ship's inner workings greet him when he finishes. Siete feels sluggish as he walks down the short hallway back to Six's room, towel wrapped around his waist and yawning.

Six doesn't look up when Siete walks into the room and closes the door behind him, but he _does_ look when Siete tosses his dirty clothes in the corner with the rest of his belongings and lays his back down on the bed.

He frowns down at him. "What happened to worrying about feeling exposed?"

"You're the only one that'd see, anyway."

"At least put pants on." Siete has to crawl half on the bed to get to where he's thrown his bag in the corner, and Six pointedly stays turned around while Siete changes. "Why didn't you bring extra clothes with you into the bathroom?"

"Well, it's nice to air out." He laughs when he turns his head over his shoulder in time to see Six's ears twitch with irritation again, and he sits on the edge of the bed when he's done changing.

Six turns around with what looks like ointment in his hands, though it doesn't look familiar to Siete. If Six is wordlessly offering to alleviate the pain, he might as well let him. Six knows better than most anyone on this ship what Siete gets himself into.

It's jarring to have this happening while Six has the mask on, because both of them are in sleep clothes, and in standard Erune fashion, Six's back is open under the sweater he's wearing. He rolls up his sleeves and opens the container, and a strong earthy smell fills the space between them. "Whatever's in that, it's helping already," Siete sighs, letting his eyes close. He's getting groggy. He was only expecting to get into an empty room and pass out cold, so staying awake now is a struggle.

"Karm did not leave me without its gifts," Six says, and Siete can't parse the emotion he attaches to it. "You seemed determined to hide your injuries, so procuring ointment from the sick bay was not an option." The ointment is cool at first on his skin, Six's fingers trying not to press too hard on each of his bruises as he rubs it in.

"You're so kind," Siete says, half of him joking, the other half relaxing into the touch.

"If you are forced to rest with me, then I will have none of your complaints about pain."

The ointment warms up as Six leaves it exposed to the air and moves onto other bruises. When Siete winces too many times, Six lightens his touch—but when he goes moves to the bruises by his waist and hips, it's _too_ light, and Siete tries his hardest not to squirm. He fails, and Six draws his hands back. "Are those painful?"

"No," Siete says, stifling his laughter, "I'm—ticklish."

Six is quiet for so long that Siete opens an eye; he's standing still, expression unreadable because it's covered, and Siete wishes he'd take that damn mask off so he knows whether he's about to get assaulted with tickles or not. It doesn't seem likely, but the being on the Grandcypher has changed Six in ways Siete has trouble keeping up with.

A part of him feels his heart constrict at the thought of it, but he keeps it to himself. It's nice to see Six happy.

Six doesn't respond, and continues to apply the balm on his bruises, more mindful this time. "So," Siete says, trying to make conversation to distract the feel of Six's hands on him, "I've been wondering. Do you sleep with the mask on?"

"Of course not." Unlike the previous comment, he answers this immediately, scoffing. "The mask's material is not conducive to comfortable sleep. My face would ache in the mornings."

"Why are you wearing it now?"

"I'm still awake. Why did you ask me this question?"

"I mean, it's just us two, and it's not like I've never seen you without your mask."

"What do you have to gain from seeing me without my mask on?" Six says, irritated, but not shutting the conversation down with finality.

"Nothing, but it's nice to make a connection with a friend in these difficult times, isn't it? I'm in _so_ much pain, Six. What if this is my dying wish? My last night? What if the bruises spread?"

Despite the teasing, Siete isn't the type to force the mask off his face at every waking moment. Six seems to function fine when he wears it, and Siete has no intentions of pushing him so far past his limits that it causes more harm than good. Six has become more confident with only wearing half of the mask, first with the Grandcypher and then with the Eternals, so if Siete gave a nudge every once in a while, no harm done.

Six is tougher than he looks, even if Siete _knows_ he's a complete softie deep down. 

"Bruises aren't infections," Six grumbles, but his fingers pause on the bruise he's currently treating. Siete closes his eyes, and after a long silence, he hears Six shift back, shuffling noises, and then the sound of something being placed on the table. Siete doesn't dare open his eyes, even when Six climbs onto the bed and sits behind him to treat the last of the bruises against his spine. He can feel Six's fingers hesitate above his skin, and Siete tries to be a good patient and avoid fidgeting.

Grumbling, Six pokes at the next bruise too hard. "Why ask me to remove my mask if you're keeping your eyes closed?"

Siete opens an eye and looks behind him. Six's face is close to his skin, scrunched in concentration as he applies ointment to the last few bruises against his back. He can't see his face well from this angle, but he could see the red adorning his cheeks from any distance. "I mean," Siete starts, "I want you to be comfortable. That doesn't change just because the mask is off." He tries and fails to keep the smile out of his voice, and Six's frown only grows, his ears twitching. "You can put the mask back on, if you want."

Six doesn't respond, returning to his task with a renowned vigour. He applies too much pressure to some of them again, but Siete doesn't mind so much when he knows Six is flustered. He stands up off the bed again, wiping his hands off his pajamas, and he says, "I've finished. Now go lay down."

"What, in bed?" Siete smirks, a joke ready to fire, but Six cuts him off.

"Where else?"

"Where are _you_ sleeping, then?"

"The floor." Without another word, Six stretches his arms and flicks the light off, and Siete wants to take back whatever it was he thought about Six's comedic timing being reliant on the mask, because the curtness of the motion makes him bark out a laugh.

Siete puts a shirt on, and from the drawer underneath the bed, Six grabs a blanket and pulls it over himself, curling on the floor. He's leaving no room for discussion about the sleeping arrangements, and Siete slides off the bed to crouch beside him.

"Hey, time out. What? Hello? This is _your_ room," Siete says.

"You're the injured party. You need to heal."

"There's enough room on the bed for both of us."

"This floor is one of the better surfaces I've slept on in my life."

"You don't have to sleep on it, but if that's how we're gonna play it, then sure." He moves to grab the pillow off the bed and lays it next to Six's head, and Six turns his head around to glare at him.

"Are you refusing my hospitality?"

"Until you get on your own bed, yes. Goodnight." Siete turns over so they're back to back.

"Your bruises will get worse and you'll have to stay another godforsaken night in my room."

"I don't see the problem. You know, Six, I don't think we spend enough quality time together."

"'Bad' is a quality."

"Aw, c'mon, we've had great times together! Like the time we were on a mission and that little kid asked you to perform in town square because she thought your mask was funny."

"That was mortifying," Six rebuts.

"Or the time Funf kicked a ball into your face while she and the Stardust Town kids were playing football."

"Without the mask, my nose would be broken."

"Or the time I got stuck in a tree and you just left me."

"You deserved it."

"The point is, do you want the half of the bed closer to the wall or to the door?" If Six won't leave any room for argument, neither will he. Who gives in to their little arguments depends on the day and the request, and Six has a stubborn streak for _miles_ if Siete provokes him the right way. He feels a drop of guilt about taking advantage of how Six doesn't prioritize himself, but in his defense, he's doing it so Six can for once.

Six doesn't answer; Siete lets his eyes close, succumbing to the tempting call of sleep, even when he's on the floor without a blanket. He'd rather live in pain for an extra day than let Six sleep on the floor of _his own room,_ but goddamn if these bruises aren't getting slept on wrong.

When Six responds, it's not without the edge of drowsiness, and Siete considers it a win, whether the tiredness is from Siete's insistence or the late hour. "The door," he admits, low and hesitant.

He can work with that. Ignoring the aches, Siete gets up off the floor and throws the pillow haphazardly onto the bed again, deliberately placing it on the side Six chose so he's forced to take it. Only when he's tucked up under the blanket on the bed does he hear Six get up off the floor and slide under the covers with him, the other blanket around his shoulders.

There's much less room on the bed than he first thought, but Siete's too tired to protest. He thinks he hears Six mumble a quiet _sleep well_ _,_ but he could well be imagining it.

* * *

(He doesn't know if he's imagining this, either, because this dream is on the edge of vivid reality, staying with him when he wakes up in the morning. In sleep, he's shifted to lay on his back, as is habit; when he wakes, or when it feels like he has, and he tilts his head to check the clock, his nose nudges against Six's, and the warm weight against his side begins to flood his consciousness.

It seems uncharacteristic for Six to sleep with his back to the door. He seems like he'd prioritize being prepared for any situation over comfort. It's something Six would do, something Six has done before from what he remembers. But now, he's curled up in a way that implies he's been seeking out the warmth of another person, not quite touching Siete because of his own restraint, even in sleep.

 _It's fine_ , Siete feels like saying, but the words are inelegantly formed in his sleep-addled mind, unsure whether he's awake or not. _I don't bite._

He lets his eyes fall on Six's figure for a while longer, desire to check the time engulfed by watching Six and his undisturbed face.

Six has been through hell and back, and yet he can never stop himself from loving the people around him, wanting to protect them. And Siete's known that all along, hasn't he? From the moment they met, Siete knew that inside him was a hunger for a salvation that he never needed, and Siete wanted to stoke the fire until it grew, until it overtook the weeds that had grown over Six's heart.

Siete never considered that the fire might take over him too until he feels the thrum of anticipation lap at his skin every time he sees Six, too hot to ignore. It's a natural progression, and yet when the thought creeps up on him, it surprises him that he's turned the corner from _this Erune is interesting_ to _Six is an important ally and an even more important friend_ to _I would give Six the world if I could_ , and it washes over him like Six's steady breathing fanning over his face, like the moonlight casting an otherworldly glow over its own child of the darkness, like—like—

He takes a breath so deep that when he lets it out he becomes lightheaded, all the blood rushing through his body and all the bright dots in his vision like fireflies blinking in the night with laughter, like he should have seen this coming. Like he's some idiot that's only now realized he might have fallen for who may be the most emotionally-constipated person in all of the skydom that might have eyes set on someone else. His eyes wander up to the ceiling, expecting there to be a hole opening up to the night sky, of all the stars twinkling at him _we told you so_.

It feels like the sky underneath him has collapsed and he's crash-landed back onto the bed, and Six is none the wiser.)

* * *

When Siete wakes up, Six's head is resting on his chest, the rest of his body curled up against his leg. The sun isn't up yet, but the sky is lightening, and before the illusion of night breaks the intimacy, he watches his hand move on its own until it's resting on Six's back, between his shoulder blades.

Sighing, he closes his eyes and wills for sleep to come again. "You're lying right on a bruise. You're gonna keep me here for days if you keep pressing on them. Thought you wanted me gone." His empty complaints fall on deaf ears, no reaction but a sleepy twitch of his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> title from sara bareilles' song, 1000 times.  
> (the fact that day one's fic is called "gravity" is a coincidence and not at all related to the sara bareilles song also called _gravity_ ,)
> 
> follow up: siete is overly enthusiastic about helping six through his crush on gran to overcompensate, but six goes to gran like "why does he think i like you when you have a bf" and gran is like *dead on the decks of the grandcypher from having to take care of everyone and gives him a thumbs up* "i'm glad you two got it worked out" "that doesn't answer anything? what does this mean?"  
> wheezes


End file.
